Adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles (Cash Laramie & Gideon Miles Series) by Edward A. Grainger Page B
Authors: Edward A. Grainger
Tags: General
Ads: Link
men, or anyone else, for that matter. Don't want rumors getting started, hear?"
The portly doctor shot a glance at Penn's hard face. "Won't, chief. Trust me. Don't like whispering in the dark, and you'll not find rumors starting with me."
"Good, good. Thanks again for coming over." Penn motioned with his hand for the doctor to leave. The medico glanced at Cash as he left, but obviously didn't recognize him. Penn leaned out the door after the doctor left. "Mayo, no one comes in."
"Right, chief," came the reply.
Penn turned to Cash. "A mess, Laramie, a goldam mess."
Cash stepped around the spraddle-legged corpse in the overstuffed chair. "Smells like a goldam mess. Someone did the country a favor. Senator Josiah Woodruff ain't gonna be doing no more voting," he said.
Woodruff's face was bloated. His tongue protruded, stiff and bloody. The eyes stared vacantly into space. Woodruff had not died a pleasant death.
"Hear the senator from Virginia was campaigning to relocate some of our native citizens to lands other than their own," Cash said. He fingered the Arapaho arrowhead he wore on a leather thong around his neck. "Reckon that measure will never pass now."
"But you're not Arapaho." Penn said.
"Naw. All white, whatever that means. Raised by Arapahos, though. Damn good people."
A woman sat in a chair by the window, staring at the floor and wiping tears from her face as they dripped from her eyes. Penn indicated her with a wave of his hand. "This is Mrs. Anne Pritchard, Cash. She found the body. You can get her statement while I take care of the newspaper people. Damn horseflies. Always buzzing around."
"Will do, sir," Cash said.
"Mrs. Pritchard," Penn said.
The woman made no move. She stared at the floor as if she, too, had been garroted to death.
Penn raised his voice. "Mrs. Pritchard!"
She jumped. Her eyelids fluttered. She turned her face toward the chief. "Y-y-es," she managed to say.
"This is Marshal Laramie. He will ask you a few questions, and I'd appreciate it if you gave him full and truthful answers."
The woman blinked, then her back stiffened. "Yes," she said. "Of course."
Penn left the room as Cash grabbed one of the chairs, turned it around and straddled it, arms on the back. "Your statement, ma'am," he said.
The woman said nothing. She just sat there, staring past Cash at the dead body of Josiah Woodruff.
Cash stood, took a blanket from the bed, and covered the corpse. He pulled a tally book and pencil stub from his vest pocket, and sat back down, straddling the chair and balancing the little book on its back. "Statement, Mrs. Pritchard?" he said.
"Thank you, marshal," the woman said.
"Call me Cash, Mrs. Pritchard," he said.
"I'm Anne."
"Tell me what happened. Start when you first saw the senator, please."
Anne Pritchard recounted how the senator and Mr. Smith had arrived, and what had happened when she came to wake the senator early in the morning.
"So you were full up, then, with guests I mean?"
"This is a small guest house, Marshal, er, Cash. Besides the senator and Mr. Smith, there're only two others. Their names are Gramlich and Randall."
Cash nodded. He knew the two gamblers, and figured neither one was a murderer of the kind that would sneak up behind a man and choke him to death with a garrote. That said, Woodruff was a politician, and that meant enemies. In fact, John Wilkes Booth, who shot President Lincoln, was considered an upright citizen before he gunned down the president.
"What about this Mr. Smith?" Cash asked.
Pritchard perked up a little. "Mr. Smith seemed a fine sort," she said. "And he saved the senator during a highwayman holdup of the stage." She repeated the story the senator had told her.
"Do you know where this Smith was headed?"
"He said he was going back to Louisiana."
"Did he say Louisiana was his home?"
"We didn't actually have much of a conversation. He went right to bed, as did I."
"Did he have breakfast?"
"He was gone by the time I went to call the
The portly doctor shot a glance at Penn's hard face. "Won't, chief. Trust me. Don't like whispering in the dark, and you'll not find rumors starting with me."
"Good, good. Thanks again for coming over." Penn motioned with his hand for the doctor to leave. The medico glanced at Cash as he left, but obviously didn't recognize him. Penn leaned out the door after the doctor left. "Mayo, no one comes in."
"Right, chief," came the reply.
Penn turned to Cash. "A mess, Laramie, a goldam mess."
Cash stepped around the spraddle-legged corpse in the overstuffed chair. "Smells like a goldam mess. Someone did the country a favor. Senator Josiah Woodruff ain't gonna be doing no more voting," he said.
Woodruff's face was bloated. His tongue protruded, stiff and bloody. The eyes stared vacantly into space. Woodruff had not died a pleasant death.
"Hear the senator from Virginia was campaigning to relocate some of our native citizens to lands other than their own," Cash said. He fingered the Arapaho arrowhead he wore on a leather thong around his neck. "Reckon that measure will never pass now."
"But you're not Arapaho." Penn said.
"Naw. All white, whatever that means. Raised by Arapahos, though. Damn good people."
A woman sat in a chair by the window, staring at the floor and wiping tears from her face as they dripped from her eyes. Penn indicated her with a wave of his hand. "This is Mrs. Anne Pritchard, Cash. She found the body. You can get her statement while I take care of the newspaper people. Damn horseflies. Always buzzing around."
"Will do, sir," Cash said.
"Mrs. Pritchard," Penn said.
The woman made no move. She stared at the floor as if she, too, had been garroted to death.
Penn raised his voice. "Mrs. Pritchard!"
She jumped. Her eyelids fluttered. She turned her face toward the chief. "Y-y-es," she managed to say.
"This is Marshal Laramie. He will ask you a few questions, and I'd appreciate it if you gave him full and truthful answers."
The woman blinked, then her back stiffened. "Yes," she said. "Of course."
Penn left the room as Cash grabbed one of the chairs, turned it around and straddled it, arms on the back. "Your statement, ma'am," he said.
The woman said nothing. She just sat there, staring past Cash at the dead body of Josiah Woodruff.
Cash stood, took a blanket from the bed, and covered the corpse. He pulled a tally book and pencil stub from his vest pocket, and sat back down, straddling the chair and balancing the little book on its back. "Statement, Mrs. Pritchard?" he said.
"Thank you, marshal," the woman said.
"Call me Cash, Mrs. Pritchard," he said.
"I'm Anne."
"Tell me what happened. Start when you first saw the senator, please."
Anne Pritchard recounted how the senator and Mr. Smith had arrived, and what had happened when she came to wake the senator early in the morning.
"So you were full up, then, with guests I mean?"
"This is a small guest house, Marshal, er, Cash. Besides the senator and Mr. Smith, there're only two others. Their names are Gramlich and Randall."
Cash nodded. He knew the two gamblers, and figured neither one was a murderer of the kind that would sneak up behind a man and choke him to death with a garrote. That said, Woodruff was a politician, and that meant enemies. In fact, John Wilkes Booth, who shot President Lincoln, was considered an upright citizen before he gunned down the president.
"What about this Mr. Smith?" Cash asked.
Pritchard perked up a little. "Mr. Smith seemed a fine sort," she said. "And he saved the senator during a highwayman holdup of the stage." She repeated the story the senator had told her.
"Do you know where this Smith was headed?"
"He said he was going back to Louisiana."
"Did he say Louisiana was his home?"
"We didn't actually have much of a conversation. He went right to bed, as did I."
"Did he have breakfast?"
"He was gone by the time I went to call the
Similar Books
